


Yellow Flicker Beat

by Agent_24



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Rescue Missions, Savathun's going ham with the Taken y'all, Shadowkeep, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 19:54:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_24/pseuds/Agent_24
Summary: Somewhere in the Ascendant Realm: two dead Guardians, the remains of an ever swelling army, a fading spark of Light.





	Yellow Flicker Beat

Drifter’s Ghost rouses him rather unceremoniously with a headbutt in the middle of the night, which on its own is enough to piss him off. He’s even less thrilled when, after a long string of muttered cursing and forehead rubbing, he realizes he’s getting a call from Shin. 

“Shit,” he says out loud, because Shin doesn’t _ call, _doesn’t like any instance that presents a possibility of his voice being recorded. Bastard barely even sends messages anymore, not since the Renegade days. Nah, lately he just shows up whenever the hell he feels like and always overstays his welcome. A call from Shin Malphur is unusual. Unusual plus Shin Malphur equals bad news. 

“What d’you want?” Drifter grumbles into the comm line, then pauses when he only hears static.

Paranoia rears its head. Static through a Lightbearer’s comms has meant surrounding Darkness more times than Drifter can count; at his age, static tends to rattle a man’s nerves. He swings his legs off the side of the bed and listens a little closer. Underneath the noise, he can hear the low tones of Shin’s voice, patchy and brittle with the bad signal. 

“Malphur,” Drifter says, a little louder. 

Still, just static. Drifter feels his hackles rise, then: the tail end of his name, and the start of the word _ ascendant. _

That explains the shit service. “I can’t understand a damn thing you’re saying,” he says. 

“ — can’t — Light’s low — “

“Talk slower.” 

“ — make it back — tell you — “

“Shin!” Drifter barks, but the comm line’s already dead. No static, no voices. Dread crawls along the back of his neck and seizes. His Ghost looks at him, red eye bright and eerie in the dark. It blinks, expectant. 

“Trace that call,” Drifter snaps. 

* * *

“I’ll pay you,” Drifter says sharply. _ A lot _goes implied. 

Tirte’s scowling, arms folded ever since Drifter mentioned Shin. She closes her eyes and exhales, jaw set and her hand up to stop him. “How deep is he?” she signs. 

Some small thread of discomfort tugs loose in Drifter’s chest — he won’t have to ask anyone else for help now, or risk spreading rumors of his..._ whatever _he has going on with Shin even further. 

As for how deep Shin is...Drifter’s done his best not to think on it. He’s deep enough that Drifter couldn’t pick his signal back up even after stepping into the plane, enough that Drifter couldn’t sense his Light. He rubs his neck and exhales, then answers, “I’ve only got a rough origin point of a call he sent me hours ago. If he’s moved since then, I don’t know about it.” 

She frowns. “The Taken have been…” she pauses, waves her hand wordlessly, wrinkles her nose, “…proactive lately.” 

Drifter thinks briefly about all the bullshit happening on Luna and shoves the thought out of his mind just as quickly. Any Taken he doesn’t control are Taken he doesn’t want to deal with. “I know.”

“This is a rescue mission, then.” 

“This is you making sure he ain’t sneakin’ off to change names and cause me trouble,” Drifter snaps, heat creeping up his neck. “Don’t put it past that bastard to fake his own death.” 

Tirte raises a brow. “And if he isn’t?” 

“If he isn’t — “ Drifter starts, then trails off. If he isn’t, then that fuzzy message had been the last call Shin ever intended to make. If he isn’t, there’s something (or enough somethings) in the Ascendant Plane capable of taking down the Man with the Golden Gun. If he isn’t — 

“You’re gonna need a team,” Drifter mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If whatever’s in there gave Malphur trouble, you don’t wanna be trying to get him back alone.” 

Tirte nods. “I have some in mind,” she signs. 

Drifter’s brows knit. “Kid,” he starts, then trails off again. She watches him expectantly. He says, quieter, “Lemme pay you.” 

She shakes her head. “I’ll go,” she says out loud, then signs, “If this is important to you.”

Drifter’s jaw tightens. 

“Pay my teammates,” Tirte says, her hands moving slow to insist she means it.

* * *

Jaren’s Ghost flits around Shin’s head, distressed and heading towards panic. He wonders if it’s playing through old memories of all the times he nearly bit the dust over the course of his life; he wonders if it’s still thinking of him as _ Jaren’s boy. _

“Shin!” it says sharply. “Shin, stay awake.” 

Shin pries his eyes open. All he wants to do is sleep. Jaren’s Ghost is trying its best to heal him, but it’s slow going on a good day, and Shin’s Light is nearly gone. 

“Stay with me,” it says. 

He’s bleeding out. That’s the main problem. A Taken Captain had thrown him against a wall and cut through his armor while he lay there short of breath, and moreover he’d been shot quite a few times, and now he’s low on Light, out of ammunition, and losing blood fast. The wound is split too wide for him to burn closed without another set of hands. He’s dizzy enough that he can’t stand without help. The two new Dredgens he’d brought in with him are dead, their Light devoured. He mourns that; they’d had _ promise, _had reminded him so much of himself and Teben when they were young.

Teben won’t know what happened to him. He’d had enough Light to boost the signal for one call, and he isn’t even sure how much of it Drifter heard, if he heard anything at all. 

“Stay awake!” 

He can’t will himself to keep applying pressure to his wound. He can hear the low growl of Taken far off, echoing, and quick footsteps closer still. 

He closes his fingers around the hilt of his knife. If he can just channel a little bit of heat into the blade, he can kill one more Taken before his Light goes out. If he’s going to die here, it’ll be with burning embers. If he’s going to die here — 

“Oh!” his Ghost says in relief. Shin blinks against the sudden darkness as it flies off, taking its flashlight with it. “Here! Please help!”

Shin squints towards the sound of its voice. Higher up in this endless chasm, he sees the faint glint of metal in his Ghost’s light. Guardian armor. 

Hell. Maybe he’s a little longer for this world yet. 

Shin lets himself rest with a little more ease. He isn’t quite out of the woods, but closing his eyes without the fear that they won’t open again feels damn good. He wishes he could go to sleep right here, wises the cold around him had the sharp bite of icy air instead of this naked kind of emptiness and chill borne of absence. 

Booted footsteps come nearer. Shin opens his eyes again and sees a Warlock standing over him, a golden bird emblazoned over her chest, her robes a shiny black and deep green. “I see you’re still alive,” she signs, then draws a flaming sword into her hands and thrusts it into the ground at his feet. 

Shin inhales sharply as Light rushes back to him, the Well stitching him back up and chasing away that heady cold. For a moment, he just basks in it, like a warm bath or a fresh cup of coffee or an early sunrise. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Shin rasps, voice as dry as his humor. 

“Bet you didn’t,” Tirte signs, hinting at wry with the tilt of her head before offering her hand. 

Shin takes it and climbs to his feet. His vision swims the moment the Well fades; it might’ve saved his life, but he’s got a long while before he’s back at 100%, and that will take more Light than what’s available here.

“Can you climb?” Tirte asks. 

Shin presses his lips together and glances up at the jagged rock jutting out from the cavern wall. It looks twice as awful through the crack in his visor. “Guess we’ll find out,” he mutters. 

Tirte’s team consists of a Titan wearing Feedback Fence and a Hunter donning Orpheus Rigs, and the two of them pull him up by the arms as he climbs. Shin feels his limbs shake the longer they go on, feet unsure and slipping here and there. Tirte catches his heel in her palm once and pushes him up, and Shin feels his knees buckle.

The Titan reaches down to pull him up by his cloak before he can fall. The pressure on his throat is enough to make him black out just briefly, and he stays on his knees while he blinks dark spots out of his vision. 

“Tirte,” the Titan calls down, then points to the spawning portals not far off. 

Tirte jumps from the ledge below and studies the Taken, Thralls and Centurions pouring through in floods and a furious, roaring Ogre climbing out after them. “Kiev,” she says aloud. 

The Hunter nods, silent, his hands shimmering purple before he turns and fires a long, arcing arrow at the swarm. Tirte draws her Ghost, and it summons a rocket launcher for her; Shin recognizes Bad Omens, a snake twining around the barrel. She brings the scope up to her eye, the tell-tale chime echoing mutedly before the swelling army explodes in the distance. 

Orbs of Light blossom from the Hunter. Shin reaches, hungry for it, but Tirte’s already swallowing them up. 

“Let’s move,” she says, then bends down to pull Shin up and over her shoulders. 

The cavern sways. Three Guardians smear into six. Shin is dizzy and tired and rescued, so he just closes his eyes against her shoulder and tries not to throw up.

* * *

He bleeds back into consciousness briefly, warmer now and feeling less like he weighs a thousand pounds. But he’s exhausted too, can’t even begin the suddenly momentous task of opening his eyes.

His Ghost must’ve transmatted his armor away. He can’t feel the broken pieces of his chestplate pressed into his side anymore, and his cheek is smushed against dusty metal, a pattern pressed into his skin.

He hears Tirte say, very softly, “He’s still weak.” 

A long silence answers her. Shin feels himself being placed down on a cot then, a heavy blanket drawn up to his shoulders. He slips back into oblivion to the fading sound of a trio of boots, and the warmth of a hesitant mouth at his brow. 

* * *

He wakes a second time to relative quiet, to the sound of humming vents and creaking pipes overhead and the dull scratching of a busy pencil nearby. 

His eyelids feel lighter now, and he takes a moment to gather himself before he opens them. The room is shaded a low orange by the lamp at Drifter’s table, where the man himself sits on a stool, drawing up what must be gun schematics. 

Drifter’s shoulders cast a long shadow across the floor. Shin has never been so glad to see those tacky pauldrons. 

He shifts just slightly, and that’s enough for Drifter to glance back at him, pencil still and plans suddenly forgotten. After a moment, he says, “Thought you were runnin’ off to play dead or some shit.” 

Shin’s mouth ticks up at the corner. “Hard to kill a legend,” he says with a faint bitterness. 

Drifter doesn’t answer. Shin exhales and shuts his eyes again, body already begging for more sleep. “Be out of your hair in a minute,” he says absently. 

More silence, then: the scrape of the stool legs, the thud of Drifter’s boots as he hops the railing, footsteps. The cot dips under Drifter’s weight, and Shin makes a half-assed attempt to scoot closer to the wall to give him room.

Drifter says, “Your Light was real low.” 

Shin sighs, nods into the pillow. 

“Your Ghost’s been frettin’ this whole time.” 

Shin grunts. His Ghost is tucked close to his Light, not flitting about or checking his vitals. He’s not sure why it would be; he’s all healed. 

“You gonna sleep more?” Drifter asks. 

Shin hums, half gone already. The weight at his side rises, and Shin musters enough strength to catch Drifter’s robes in his fingers. “When’re you coming to bed?” he mumbles, glancing up through his lashes. 

Silence, then: the faint clink of a buckle, the sound of a gun belt being dropped to the floor, the creak of the cot as Drifter sinks back down to it. 

The last lingering chill from the Plane simmers out of Shin’s body.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to ActualHurry for beta reading, and also letting me borrow her boy Kiev <3


End file.
